


The Minion Verse

by Merideath



Category: Captain America (Movies), Despicable Me (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1618577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/pseuds/Merideath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chaos is small, yellow, and wears goggles.</p><p>The one where the Minions watch too many 80s romantic comedies and Steve Rogers gets a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. kidnapped

**Author's Note:**

> A few of you asked if I could put the Minion verse ficlets together in a new work so it was easier to bookmark and find later. I've put them together here now that there is a new one to contribute to your tooth decay.

"Wait, wait, wait…we’re not doing this," the girl says, clapping her hands together. 

The minions grumble and disperse around Steve. The last one side eyeing the girl and poking his ribs with a mop handle. Another minion siddles up to the one with the mop  and smacks him upside the head. The minions argue over the mop, gloved hands slapping at each other until the mop clatters to the floor.

Steve grunts in pain but makes no other move keeping his hands held high above his head. “We need to stop meeting like this,” he says with mouth twisting up in a crooked smile. _You're an idiot_ , he thinks. Steve isn't entirely sure what's going on here. One minute he was headed home still in his suit,  a small skirmish with Doombots that wrecked a Starbucks, the next he was on a cluttered van surrounded by warm yellow bodies that smelled of play-doh, and jabbered in a language he couldn't fathom. He could still smell the burnt coffee that seeped into his boots. The left one squished when he shifted his feet.

"Isn’t that rather cliche, Captain?" she asks, batting away one of the minions tugging at the soft folds of her fluffy robe. It’s blue covered in sleepy clouds with a yawning sun peering out from the pocket. Under the robe he can see one fuzzy pink slipper with a spiralling golden horn, long curly eyelashes, and dull plastic eyes staring vacantly into his soul. "You know we're not the bad guys, right?"

"Steve," he says, lowering his hands to his sides. He's more than a little relieved that she didn't comment on his stumbling line. 

"Okay,  _Steve_ , how did you get in _here_?” 

Steve lowers his gaze to the minion gripping her robe. She looks at him blankly and he arches his left brow. 

"Oh. Oh, no," she sights running a hand through her loose hair. "No, you did not bring the real Captain America home. Why did you bring him here, Fred?"

"Para tú," the minion, Fred, says wringing his small gloved  hands together. "Darcy."

"For me? Why would you bring him here? Dad’s gonna kill me,"  Darcy says crossing her arms over her chest. The unicorn slipper stamping on the ground. Steve’s not sure if its meant to be impressive or not but the minions around the edges of the room make an ‘oooh’ sound and shuffle around.

"La boda," pipes up a smaller minion. A single eye in the middle of his yellow forehead. The minion points from Darcy to Steve. Her eyes go wide and pink warms her cheeks. Steve thought she was beautiful before, when he thought she was a villain and it turned out she wasn’t quite what she seemed to be, but now? Now with the blush on her cheeks and he blue eyes wide and bright she was gorgeous. Even dressed in ridiculous unicorn slippers. 

"No, Dave, no," Darcy says shaking her head and carefully avoiding Steve’s eyes. The minions all begin to babble at once. One keeps saying ‘potato’ over and over again and the rest keep pointing back and forth between Steve and Darcy. "No."

"Da," says Fred. The rest of the minions nod, broad smiles on their faces.

"No," she repeats. 

"No, what?" Steve gives in and asks. Really he has no idea what’s going since he woke up in a sea of yellow limbs and blue denim. 

"Da, da, da, da," chorus the minions. 

"Cap," says Fred pointing at Steve and tugging on Darcy’s hand.  The minions start repeating ‘Cap’ and ‘Darcy’ over and over.

One minion starts blowing raspberries. There are hands on Steve’s back, shoving him forward to meet Darcy in the middle of the room. His left boot squishes unpleasantly. 

"I’m not marrying him," Darcy says waving her hand about and smacking Steve in the chest. Her nose wrinkles and he's pretty sure she can smell the coffee that's soaked into the lower half of his uniform. He really should have gone back to the tower instead of taking the train home.

_Oh_ , Steve thinks. “Is that what—”  

"Da," the minions cheer. "Date, date, date."

"I don’t think," he starts and Darcy levels her gaze at him. She’s tiny standing there in her silly slippers and wild hair. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he wanted to push back the strands of dark hair covering her left eye. Or kiss her. His eyes drop down to the curve of her berry pink lips. "You know what? Yeah, okay, a date." 

"What?" 

"I’d like to date a girl before I marry her," Steve says. It’s probably the smoothest line he has ever said and still he can hear the echo of Bucky’s laughter in his head.

"M’kay," Darcy says softly. She doesn't look entirely convinced, and he isn't entirely sure either.

The minions titter and cheer, clustering close around Darcy and hugging her. Small hands pat him on the back and one pinches his ass and starts giggling saying ‘bottom’ over and over.

He’s pretty sure he’s going to owe Fury another ten dollars after tonight, but at least he has a date.


	2. beetle

“So are you coming to the SI mixer tonight? It’s gonna be fun,” Natasha asks as she slips up on his left.

“More fun than this?” Steve says prying the helmet from his head and running a gloved hand through his sweaty hair. His eyes scan the street but nothing is moving but a scrap of newspaper caught in a vent.

“Linda from accounting will be there. She likes you.”

“Strawberry blonde with the aversion to all things green?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, no, besides I-”

"It's those little yellow guys again," Sam says as he swoops down to land on his right.

“What? Where?” Steve says shoving his shield onto his back. “Nevermind.” He sees the minions then. A small pack of them clambering over the prone body of  a mammoth lemon yellow beetle, definitely not the car,  they’d been tasked with fighting half the afternoon. One of the minions tumbles to the asphalt and another begins laughing and waving his arms around cheerfully. “Damn it.”

“Are those…?”

“Minions,” Steve says, wincing as the minions turn as one and scramble to reach him. Natasha raises her weapons and Steve holds out his arm. “They’re harmless, Nat.” Natasha tilts her head at him, eyebrows arching up. “Trust me.”

“Cap! Cap! Cap!” the minions cheer as they swarm over to them. There’s a baker’s dozen of them crawling all over each other to hug him. It’s not pleasant. Nor is the constant chatter emanation from their mouths. He can only catch every seventh word or so, a repetition of ‘Cap’, ‘Darcy’,  ‘date’ and ‘‘la boda’ in the happy babble as they poke and prod at his uniform. One taps on his shield.

“I, uh, have a date.”

“Date!” says a minion with a single eye.  _Dave,_ Steve thinks,  _or possibly Fred_.

“Da!” chorus the rest of the minions.

“Since when?” Sam says pushing away an inquisitive minion tugging at his left boot and shaking another from poking at his wings. “Hey stop that.”

Not a single minion touches Natasha. One minion with two eyes hidden behind goggles and dark spikes of hair on his head appears to be sketching Natasha’s boots on a small notepad. It’s tongue is caught between large square teeth as he concentrates.

“Since the last time they showed up,” Steve says as two minions begin to tug on his gloved hand.

"You couldn't just ask out a girl from accounting, could you?" Natasha says glaring at one of the taller minions caught reaching towards her ass.

“Darcy Lewis, one of Felonius Gru’s daughters. She checks out,” he says before Natasha can say anything else. He wasn’t going to have a repeat of the barista at his third favorite coffee shop who just so happened to a) not be entirely human and b) was a HYDRA agent. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen again.

“Darcy, Darcy, Darcy,” the minions chorus.

“Gelato,” cries another minion thrusting small gloved fists into the air. Dave, the minion, curled his fist and bopped the other on top of his head.

“She pretty?” Sam asks, and Steve fails to keep his face neutral.

 _She’s gorgeous_ , he wants to say.

A  minions pulls out a small black cube and holds it up to Steve. “Thank you,” he says taking it carefully.

“Darcy,” the minion coos and presses the top of the cube. The cube unfurls into a rectangle his hand and a video plays of the night the minions kidnapped him.

 _“I’m not marrying him,”_  Darcy says, waving her hands about in the video.

“She’s pretty,” Natasha says thoughtfully as she pulls the tablet from his hand. 

“Hey, watch where you put your hands,” Sam says turning around and rubbing his behind. “That one pinched my ass.”

“Bottom,” chirps the minion in question, a wide grin on its sunny face.

“Stop that,” Steve says pulling his hands free of them minions to cross his arms over his chest. He levels the minions with his best Captain-America-is-disappointed face.

Two minions' lips wobble and a third bursts into tears.

 _Damn it_. Steve sighs wishing he had the patience of a saint. Or a sniper.

“Nice going, Cap, look what you did,” Sam says, awkwardly patting  a minion on the head as the minion clings to his leg.

A minion, with a single eye, starts pointing at the watches strapped to his wrist and taps his foot impatiently. Steve’s pretty sure neither watch tells the correct time. The minion spits out a string of babble ending in ‘la boda’.

 _"I’d like to date a girl before I marry her,"_  he hears himself say on the video. Steve winces. It really sounded better at the time.

“Who knew you could be so smooth, Rogers,” Sam says clapping him on the shoulder. There’s laughter in his voice and and Steve’s mouth twitches up at the corners.

The minions swarm over Steve and begin to push and pull at him. “Hey, hey,” he says.

“Have fun on your date,” Natasha calls out behind him.

Sam adds a far too cheerful ‘don’t forget to use protection’ that stops the minions in their tracks and makes Steve wish he had better friends. The minions glare at Steve small arms crossing over their cylindrical chests. The tips of Steve’s ears grow warm and he holds his hands up in front of him.

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve says dryly.

“No problem, man,” Sam replies. The minions chatter, occasionally giving him pointed looks before they begin to pull at him again leading him in the opposite direction from the beetle.

“Wait, I can’t go out like this,” he says waving at his uniform covered torso. The minions ignore him as the tug him towards an inconspicuous grey van with two minions leaning out the window of the driver’s side.  

“Da,” says Dave, nodding his head enthusiastically.

Sunlight glints off the safety glass of the minion’s goggles and burns into Steve’s eyes. He really hopes that Darcy leaves the minions home. He has a feeling there will be minions spying on them anyway. Steve’s right boot squishes with every step he takes. “No, wait. My apartment first,” Steve says stubbornly. “I’m not going to go on a date smelling like bug guts.”

The minions blink up at him.

“Darcy won’t like it?” he tries again.

“Oooh,” the minions coo and start jabbering excitedly among themselves.

“Come on then,” he sighs.


	3. shovel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'The Minions watch too many movies and TV shows and think that the proper way a first date is supposed to go involves the suitor showing up and being grilled by the date's father while waiting on the date to finish getting ready... No one warned Steve about this. Or Gru. And of course... Darcy is the last to know.' - lostdaemon

The sound of breaking glass filters through the closed bathroom door.

Steve grits his teeth and wishes he left them in the hallway for Mrs Mancini to deal with. Mrs. Mancini stole his newspaper every other morning when he was out running.

He counts to ten in his head, "Be careful."

"Bi-do," chorus the minions through the door.

His shirt is missing from the hanger.

"Where's my shirt?" There is a shuffling and whispering among the minions. The door opens a crack and a new shirt is shoved through the gap. It's not the pale green button down he picked out for the date but a blue shirt with small mother of pearl buttons.

The shirt is a few shades darker than his eyes, or perhaps the color of Darcy's. It's definitely not his shirt. He puts the shirt on anyway and is thankful the minions haven't seen fit to take his jeans. They're his favorite pair.

"This isn't mine," he says when he opens the door.

"Cap," Dave says twirling his finger around.

Steve clenches his jaw and twirls around in a slow circle. It’s somehow less humiliating than a trip to the mall with Natasha.

The minions gather together whispering,small gloved hands flailing.

Several long minutes pass.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels, eyes scanning the room for what the minions have destroyed. Nothing is out of place. Not one single thing. In fact the living room is spotless. Including the untidy pile of books and newspapers (bought from the newsstand, thank you very much Mrs. Mancini) he had been reading when the call had been made about the mutated dung beetle roaming the city.

He’s starting to think the whole idea of this date was a bad decision, in a long line of bad decisions he’s made with his life, when the minions pounce. Again. They comb his hair, spritzing him with God knows what. Chemicals fill his lungs and tickle his nose.

“Stop, stop, stop,” he says as calmly as he can. The minions stuff his arms into a dark blue leather jacket and push a bouquet of coral, pink and white flowers into his hands. "Will I do?"

“Beau,” pronounce the minions with toothy grins.

Steve reaches up to touch his hair and a minion scowls at him, waving a finger. “Er, sorry.”

....

"What do you want?" are the words that greet Steve, when he knocks on the door of Darcy’s house. The flowers  the minions gave him held awkwardly in his hand.

"I'm Darcy’s date, sir," Steve says, sounding less confidant the more syllables fall from his mouth. “Steve Rogers.” He holds out his hand but Gru waves it away.

"A date," Gru says dragging out the ‘a’ in date. “You have a date with my daughter?”

“Yes, sir.”

"Date," chorus the minions.

“Nice...house,” Steve says. It is nice in an ominous sort of way with black painted brickwork and dark purple trim. The lawn is very green and everywhere there are bright flowers. “May I come in?”

“It is four walls and a roof, the appearance makes no difference,” Gru says stepping back from the door.

Steve follows him into a large living room, with floral wallpaper, elaborate framed photos of Gru, the minions, Darcy and her sisters as small almost angelic looking children.

The sofa is a surprise with its blood red cushions and dark scales.  _A dragon or maybe a crocodile_ , he thinks. It’s a little unsettling, but not any worse that the pictures Thor paints with words. Epic tales of hunting far odder beasts than vaguely malevolent furniture.

"Sit, sit," Gru says waving a his hands from Steve to the immense sofa. He sit down gingerly on the edge of the couch and hopes it doesn’t bite him in the ass the way reality appears to be.

"Pala," Dave, the minion, says.

Steve knows that one.

Two minions rock up beside him, red and white striped boxes of popcorn clutched tight in their small gloved hands. A third minion tugs on Gru’s sleeve and hands him a small yellow shovel with pink polk-a-dot ribbon trailing from the handle.

"Yes, it’s a very nice shovel, Edgar.”

“Pala,” Edgar says pointing at Steve.

“Why do I need a shovel?" Gru asks.

“I think they want you to give me a shovel talk,” Steve says quietly.  _This is why Natasha thinks I’m an idiot_ _._

“Do I need to give you a shovel talk?”

“Da,” the minions chant, clapping their hands together and cheer. Popcorn spills over the floor and onto the toe of Steve’s shoe.

“You are aware that I am a supervillain, yes?” Gru says drawing himself up to his full height.

“I am aware,” Steve says, straightening his shoulders. He thinks, _‘supervillain’ is a bit of a stretch_.

He doesn’t say that.

“Oh, my God,”  Darcy says as she steps into the room. Coral colored skirt swirl around her knees with every step she takes. His mouth goes dry and his brain fogs up. “Pretty please, tell me this is not happening.”

“This is not happening,” Gru says dryly.

“You are not making death threats to Captain America,” Darcy says. Her hands on her hips and a frown on her pink painted lips.

“What death threats? There are no death threats here, only heavily implied gross bodily harm,” Gru smiles. It’s not a pleasant smile.

“Hi, Steve,” Darcy says. Her voice rasps when she says his name, and a spike of adrenaline surges through his body.

“Hi, Darcy.”

“You didn’t back out.”

“No I didn’t,” her says holding out the flowers for her. “These are for you.”

“Minions?”

“Minions.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” she says tossing the flowers to a group (pod?) of minions who scramble over each other for possession of the bouquet. Darcy curls her arm around his and looks up at him through the dark fall of her lashes. Steve flexes the muscles beneath her hands. “Later, dad, Minions.”

He lets Darcy drag him out of the room and down the hall to the front door, stopping briefly to  grab a black leather jacket and tiny purse from the hands of a minion, Oscar or Oliver, it was definitely an O name.  _Orlando_ , he thinks.

“Like the dress?” Darcy asks as she pulls on her jacket and flicks her hair out from the collar.

“It’s gorgeous,” he says, letting his eyes sweep over her from the loose curls tumbling around her shoulders to the peep toed wedges on her feet.  You’re gorgeous.”

Pink creeps into Darcy’s cheeks and she tilts her head down, lips curved in a shy smile. “You’re sweet.” She thrusts out her foot and rotates her ankle in a slow circle. “And the shoes?”

Steve focuses on the ribbons wrapped around her slender ankle. “Are a vast improvement on the unicorn slippers,” he replies and Darcy laughs, full and throaty, head thrown back and eyes sparkling.

“They are, aren’t they,” Darcy says, slipping her hand in his and lacing their fingers together. “Lets go.”

“Wait! Do you have your raygun?” Gru calls from down the hall.

“Yes, dad,” Darcy says, patting the small purse swinging at her hip.

Steve’s eyebrows raise, “Raygun?”

“It’s totally fine,” she says pulling the door open and pushing him through. “and I’m sorry about my dad...and the minions. They, uh, watch way too many 80s movies. It rots their brains.”

“Wait, when did he see your unicorn slippers?” Gru’s voice filters through the door. The minions start shouting all at once. “You did what?”  

Darcy scrunches up her nose, “We better go. Like ten minutes ago.”

“Are you--”

“Yup, totally. Let’s rock, Captain.”


	4. the date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Steve go on their first date. Surprisingly enough it isn't quite a disaster.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what,” Steve asks folding down his menu.

“Everything?”

“I think you might need to be a little more specific.”

Darcy huffs out a laugh. The pads of her fingers nudge the cutlery on the table lining it up in straight lines on the paper napkin. The restaurant, Miranda’s, is tiny. Warm and inviting with the rich scent of cooking meats and cilantro. Garlic and herbs. Cinnamon and chocolate.

“Them.”

_Ah. Them._

Steve flicks his gaze out across the restaurant to a small table tucked in the corner. Sat at the table are two minions, dressed in what Steve supposes is meant to be civilian clothing, a hat and beige coat on one. The other minion is wearing a curly red wig, garash flowered dress, and eye burningly bright pink lipstick. The minions duck down behind their menus. Steve sighs. It’s not that he didn’t know they were there, subtle is not a word in the minions’ lexicon. Glancing out the small picture window he can see a van parked across the street.

A mural painted on the side, a warrior woman holding a sword while riding a purple unicorn. Classy. In the driver’s seat are perched two minions arguing over what he thinks might be a video camera. Steve hands curl into fists. He lets the air ease from his lungs and mentally counts to ten.

“It’s not your fault,” he says with a half smile.

“This is why I haven’t been on a date in forever,” Darcy says, wrinkling her nose. She twists her plate counter clockwise, the flower pattern aligning towards the center of the table.

Steve reaches out and covers her hand with his. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“You’re a bad liar, Captain,” she says, focusing on their hands.

“Okay, I don’t mind  _much_ ,” he amends. “You know we can get out of here. Go somewhere else.”

“Are you kidding? They have the best tacos here.”

“Oh, well, if it’s tacos.”

“Give me a sec, okay?” Darcy says pulling her hand free and standing up. Steve gets to his feet, as is proper. she rolls her eyes, but the smile curving across her pretty lips makes his heart beat a little faster. She turns on her heel and marches up to the minions at the corner table.

He can’t quite make out everything that Darcy says, her voice is pitched too low for him to hear against the music filtering from the speakers in the corners of the restaurant. The words that drift to his ears bleed from English to French to Mandarin seamlessly, with phrases in Sindarin and Klingon. Steve’s halfway through watching Star Trek: the Next Generation with Natasha. He wouldn’t have pegged her for a science fiction fan but apparently she once used a bat'leth on a trip of goons a mission in Indiana. Natasha kept the bat'leth as a souvenir and has a fondness for the franchise.

The minions hop down from the table with sheepish looks on their small yellow faces, gloved hands wringing. “Bi-do. Bi-do,”  the minions say and Darcy rocks back on her heels, one pale hand pointing at the door. The bell jingles cheerfully as they scramble through the door and out into the van. A few minutes later the van takes off down the street in a puff of blue black smoke.  Darcy twirls around, the skirt of her dress flaring out as she beams at him.

The tacos are good.

The burritos are better. He has two and orders a few more to take home for later.

They navigate their way through a minefield of no go topics. He doesn’t talk about his time as a tv dinner, or the time he spent in the stomach of a giant alien worm. Darcy doesn’t talk about her dad’s failure to make the top ten list of Supervillains but she does talk about music and science fiction novels.

Her whole face lights up when she talks, hands moving as she spins tales about her sisters, growing up with minions as babysitters, and rebelling from the family business. Steve forgets about the minions spying on them, her father, and the persistent ache in his lower back. Slipping off the chitinous back of a giant mutated beetle will do that to you, even with serum enhanced healing.

There is a trickle of warmth in his chest and for the first time in a long while he lets himself relax and enjoy the evening. Darcy steals bites of his flan and he demolishes the last half of her fried ice cream.

It’s not love that he feels but he is more than a little bit taken with her as he pays for dinner, after a small, mostly goodnatured, argument. He did eat more after all and there is the bag of tinfoil wrapped burritos to consider.  

Steve is also pretty sure the feeling in his stomach when she takes his hand as they reach the pavement has nothing to do with jalapeños or beans and everything to do with Darcy’s hand in his.

He does get to see her raygun, not a euphemism. Shining dully in the bottom of her purse like something out of a Buck Rogers story.

As dates go it’s one of the best he’s had. He wasn’t ditched by his date, doombots didn’t attack the block, he didn’t get slapped, and nothing exploded. Not yet anyway.

“Wooden nickel for your thoughts,” Darcy asks, swinging her hip into his thigh. He feigns missing a step, the plastic bag of food swinging between his fingers.

“Not sure they’re worth that much,” he says dryly.  _Don’t ruin it_ , he thinks.

“Come on, Steve.”

“It’s been a...nice night.”  _Smooth, Rogers, real smooth_ , he mentally chides himself.

“You were going to say swell there,” she says, jabbing her finger into his ribs and halting their walk in the yellow glow of a streetlight.

“No.”

“Okay, how about gas? Killer-diller?”

“You been sitting on that all night?”

“No...but there is a translation app for grandad speak. I thought it might come in handy.”

“You callin’ me old?”

“If the high waisted trousers fit.”

“Very funny,” he huffs. He hasn’t worn those since the first time he was on the helicarrier. There may still be a pair in the back of his closet. Natasha can pry those out of his cold, dead hands. Nothing wrong with a good pair of wool trousers.

“Thank you,” Darcy says low. Her eyes are on the zipper of his leather jacket and she rolls her lip between her teeth.

“For what?”

“For showing up and not running from the crazy trail that is my life.”

Steve raises his brows at her soft admission. “And mine isn’t?”

Three seconds later there is a commotion in the bushes beside the sidewalk and two minions roll out and onto the street.

“Muak muak muak,” the smaller minion says hopefully. The taller minion rolls his eye, at least Steve thinks that. Her should really pay more attention to Fury.

“God,” Darcy says, pulling her hand free of his and covering her face. It doesn’t do a damn thing to hide the brilliant red of her cheeks. “Barry, Gordon, go home now.”

“Mu...ak?” he asks.  Darcy shakes her head, fingers spreading so she can peek out. The minions wave, and make exaggerate kissy faces at him. Ah.

“Muak muak muak,” Barry whispers excitedly. Gordon hisses and smacks the other minion upside the head and begins to drag him around the back of a dark colored beetle. The volkswagen, not the mad scientist kind. The VW’s sporting a faded ‘I break for Avengers’ sticker on the back.

Steve grins, wraps his fingers around her slender wrist, bending down to drop a kiss on the back of Darcy’s hand. Her lips twitch up and he pulls her hand away. Darcy’s eyes shine in the streetlight, eyebrows arched in surprise. Steve kisses her again, a light brush of his lips on her cheek before covering her mouth with his. He keeps the kiss slow and closed mouthed.

It’s perfect.

Or it is for a few moments. An almighty cheer sounds and they are surrounded by minions with happy grins and grasping hands. Darcy laughs in embarrassment, full and bright, shoulders shaking and her forehead presses against his chest. Steve shakes his head ruefully. He can taste Darcy’s lipstick on his lips and can’t keep the stupid smile from his face as he gently bats a minion’s hand away from his ass.

 


	5. assemble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The avengers assemble. 
> 
> Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt to cheer myself up from a terrible I wrote more minions. 
> 
> No Steve or Darcy in this chapter but hopefully it's still entertaining and brightens your day just a little bit. 
> 
> Thanks go to ladysarah and Aenaria for listening to me whine about this verse and beta reading.

“Where’s Thor?”

 

“Asgard.”

 

“Banner?”

 

“South America.”

 

“Barton?”

 

“Hospital.”

 

“Again?”

 

“Again.”

 

“So it’s just us then...”

 

“Well….”

 

“Am I the only one seeing this?” Tony asks, flipping up his face plate. It doesn’t really help. Dozens of small yellow creatures, Twinkie shaped with goggles covering their eyes, are bouncing around the street.

 

“Minions,” Natasha says, head tilting to the side as her eyes flick over a cluster of minions battling a violently purple coloured creature. Its multiple eyes ringing around its body above writhing tentacles surrounding a mouth lined with a dozen rows of jagged teeth dripping a faint orange substance that smoked as it hit the docks.

 

“Minions,” Sam repeats, arms crossed over his chest, lips twitching.

 

“We’ll get back to that later but where the hell is, Cap’n Crunch?”

 

“Over there,” Sam says, pointing out one of the minions dressed in familiar red, white and blue. A glowing holographic shield in one gloved hand curled around the utility belt cinched around his cylindrical waist.

 

“Not that one. Tall, blonde, permanent scowl on his face, no sense of humour. Ring any bells?”

 

“He’s busy.”

 

“Seriously? He isn’t aware there is a creature from the black lagoon attacking the city?” Tony asks, throwing his hand out towards the cephalopod casually swallowing a small blue sailboat.

 

“Steve’s on a date.”

 

“Pull the other one, Wilson.”

 

“Second date. He was nervous, it was adorable.”

 

“With who?”

 

Sam snorted and jerked his chin at the minions. “Felonious Gru’s daughter.”

 

“That’s not funny.”

 

“The minion nearly kidnapped Steve last week after that little altercation with the giant yellow beetle you missed out on,” Natasha says, arching a perfect eyebrow.

 

“I was busy. I’m a busy man. Little Stevie is aware that Gru’s a supervillain...no, wait, that’s not right...low grade villain, right?”

 

“He’s not dating Gru. The daughter checks out. She’s lovely,” Natasha says coolly, fingers toying with a small blade, not half as sharp as the smile she’s wearing.

 

“I take it back, this is the best news I’ve heard all day. The press is gonna love it. I can see the headlines now; Captain America’s affair with Voluptuous Villainess,” Stark grins, rubbing his suit hands together in glee.

 

“Avengers Assemble,” the minion dressed like Captain America shouts. He raises his shield and poses dramatically, barrel chest puffed out, sunlight glinting off the lenses of his goggles.

 

A small contingent of Minions shuffle around and form into a loose semi circle. Each dressed as a different hero. Captain America, Thor, Hulk, Black Widow, Iron Man, War Machine, Hawkeye. Sam nearly falls over when a minion buzzes over their heads dressed like himself. The Black Widow minion, in a scarlet wig and matching lipstick slashed across his face, waves at them. Sam and Natasha wave back.

 

The minion’s boots are nearly identical to Natasha’s own.

 

They aren’t close enough to hear as two minions, Iron Man, and one dressed as Captain Hammer argue over the controls of the cannon. Captain Hammer slaps Iron Man in the face and an all out slap fight ensues.

 

The Captain America minion scowls and points at the purple kraken tearing apart a yacht. The minions jump back to work, aiming the cannon and shooting something up into the air. The Kraken plucks the projective from the air and shoved it into its gaping mouth. The minions cheer. One dressed as Iron Man, costume made from sequinned fabric (Tony is not happy about this), turns and moons the Great Grape, Kraken edition.

 

“Bajar,” Cap minion shouts lifting his glowing holographic shield up over his face. A minion  dressed as the Black Widow darted behind one dressed in a purple dress with a crossbow in his hands, and Avengers Band-aids stuck to his happy yellow face.

The Kraken screams.

 

The minions duck down.

 

The purple Kraken explodes outward in a shower of chunks of charred purple flesh and gelatinous goo.

 

“Oh, that’s just nasty,” Sam says wrinkling his nose as the scent of burning flesh and rotting fish wafts over.

 

The minions cheer.

 

A large shiny silver vehicle pulls up to the dock in a cloud of blue black smoke. Felonious Gru steps out of the cab and marches over to the largest pack of minions, face turned down in an angry scowl.

 

“What do you think you are doing?”

 

“Assemble?” says the minion in the purple dress. Gru blinks and the minion waves his crossbow and points at the minion dressed as Captain America. The Captain America minion shakes his head and points up at Tony, Natasha and Sam who all shake their heads and wave.

 

“I am very disappointed in you,” Gru says, kicking a small blob of gelatinous goo. The goo sticks to his shoe and he scuffs it off on the edge of the wooden dock.

 

“Bi-do,” the minions chorus.

 

“Yes, yes you are. Just look at this mess,” Gru says spreading his hands wide, shoulders hitching up with the movement.

 

“Darcy, Cap…date,” says the minion dressed as the Black Widow, wig cocked to the side and dripping violent purple goo.

 

“Date.”

 

“La boda,”

 

“No, no, no. I do not want excuses.No more playing at superheroes,” Gru scowls, hands on his hips.

 

“Da,” chorus the minions sadly.

 

“And clean up this mess,” Gru says, the ends of his striped scarf flapping in the breeze.

 

“I think that means it’s time to go home,” Sam says with a shrug, eyeing the Falcon minion zooming past over their heads. Sam waves. The minion waves back and drops like a stone. Sam winces but the minion pulls up from the dive before he can become a smear on the ground. “Yep, I’m done.”

 

“You didn’t do anything,” Natasha says, with a smirk that reaches her eyes.

 

“Let’s put it this way, I need a drink.”

 

“I have drinks,” Tony says, scowling at the minion dressed as Iron Man dancing around a large lump of Kraken. Tony shrugs, he’s done worse. Far far worse. “All it will cost you is the tale of Stevie boy dating the Big Bad’s baby girl.”

 

“Deal.”


	6. eavesdropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Couldn’t you date a nice villain instead? You know, maybe one with a nice castle. A moat would be nice this time of year. Very atmospheric,” Gru's voice filters through the open window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks go to ladysarah and Aenaria for beta reading and listening to me whine about this little piece of fluff. Also it should be mentioned that lostdaemon promoted 'Couldn't you date a nice villain?' and who that villain might be. As always I'm not responsible for spilled drinks or toothache. 
> 
> Happy reading, folks.

He's not nervous, as he parks the bike on the curb in front of Darcy's house. The house of an almost villain in a neighborhood still echoing with children's laughter. Fresh cut grass and barbecue smoke fill his lungs. There are no minions to be seen, only the gleaming silver metal of Gru's vehicle parked on the driveway beside an equally shining Vespa. The Vespa is painted to look like galaxies, swirls of purple and navy over black strewn with tiny stars. It's got Darcy written all over it in everything but name.

 

He's not nervous, except his hands are sweaty and his belly twists every time his thoughts turn to Darcy. The memory of her in his arms pushes to the forefront of his thoughts as he leaves the bike at the curb. He can almost taste her laughter on his lips.

 

Their first date had gone better than he could have hoped for, even with an assortment of minions spying from a tricked out van. The second date ended before the trailers finished at the cinema with a doombot attack and a call to assemble. Darcy had said she understood, kissed him (far too briefly in his opinion), and before he slipped through the exit door the seats around Darcy were filled with minions. The minions had waved as they slipped 3D glasses on over their goggles. One minion with a  single eye frowning fiercely at the useless glasses in his glove covered hand.

 

That was a week ago, and Steve still wasn't sure if it should be counted as a date at all. Darcy had assured him that she still enjoyed the coffee they shared before walking to the cinema. It wasn't good enough. Darcy deserved better.

 

Tonight was going to be better. Steve smooths his hands over his jean clad thighs, took one last strafing breath and raised his hand to knock.

 

“Couldn’t you date a nice villain instead? You know, maybe one with a nice castle. A moat would be nice this time of year. Very atmospheric,” Gru's voice filters through the open window. Steve’s eyebrows raise and he pulls his knuckles back from the door without knocking. He ignores the echo of his mother’s voice in his mind, telling him how rude it is to listen in on private conversations. He’s been spending too much time with Natasha.  

 

“Dad, no,” Darcy says, and Steve imagines the look on her face. Blue eyes bright, head tilted to the side, full lips turned down. He scrapes the toe of his boot over the door mat and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Empty candy wrappers crinkle at the movement and he makes a mental note to empty his pockets when he can.

 

“What, what? It’s only a suggestion...light bulb...Dr. Horrible is single.”

 

“Dad.”

 

“He’s a doctor.”

 

“Of what?”

 

“Horribleness?”

 

“Ugh, dad, no. I have a date. I like Steve. He’s funny, he doesn’t mind the minions hanging around all the time, he doesn’t care that I’m a villain’s daughter-”

 

“Supervillain,” Gru interjects.

 

“-and everytime he smiles I get butterflies swirling around in my belly. It’s crazy.”

 

“There should be no Lepidoptera in the digestive tract. The wings get stuck in the throat. Very dry.”

 

“Dad, he’s a good guy.”

 

“I still don’t like him. He’s too...patriotic. Heroic even.”

 

“Good thing you aren’t dating him dad.”

 

“You should think of your sisters. They’re very impressionable.”

 

“Ugh, dad, I’m going-” Darcy huffs, opening the door and barrels straight into his chest. Steve pulls his hands from his pockets in time to catch her, curling his hands around her upper arms. “Oof.” Darcy blinks up at him, cheeks flushed pink, eyes wide, red painted lips curving up in a surprised smile.

 

"Hi, Darcy," he says, smiling down at her. The leather of her jacket is soft under the pads of his fingers as he reluctantly pulls back from her.

 

“You're early.”

 

"It's seven," Steve says, pulling back the cuff of his leather jacket to reveal his watch. “You said to pick up up between seven and half past.”

 

There’s a shuffling behind her and he glanced down to see two minions blinking owlishly up at him. The minion on the left, Edgar, is wearing a pink apron edged in frothy white lace, splattered in red that Steve doesn’t want to think about too hard. The one on the right, Oswald or maybe Orwell, is grinning in a way that is more than a little unsettling. Both minions wave then begin, rather violently in his opinion, to elbow each other. The elbowing turns into a shoving match, yellow arms pinwheeling, and voices rising in anger.  

 

“Uh, Darcy-”

 

“Hold that thought,” Darcy says, poking his chest with one blue tipped finger nail. She turns around, and Steve gets a waft of her perfume. He drags the scent of roses and vanilla into his lungs and swallows hard.  He lets his eyes slide over her back, taking in the the leather jacket, dark jeans that match the color of his own, and the tall black boots that narrow the gap between their heights.

 

“Edgar, Olivier, no spying. That goes for every one of you,” she orders sharply. Steve is doubtful it will do any good, the minions care less about boundaries than Stark or Natasha.

 

“Da,” both minions chorus, nodding. Their gloved hands are hidden behind their back.  

 

“Bye, dad, minions,” Darcy shouts, louder than Steve thinks is strictly necessary, and pulls the door shut with a hard click.  “Let’s go.”

 

The curtains in the window twitch and Steve makes the effort to turn his back on the line of goggle covered faces peering out at them. “Nice paint,” he says tilting his head towards the little Vespa with it’s swirling paint. The paint looks different again, as if the galaxies have spun off in different directions. The cluster that looked like a cat now looked like a dragon breathing a fiery cloud. It made the hairs on the back of his neck raise and something squirm in the back of his mind.

 

“Thanks, so how much of that did you hear?” she asks, waving her hand towards the house.

 

Steve flicks his gaze sideways to take in her scrunched up nose, “I didn’t hear anything.”

 

"Why don't I believe you," Darcy says, lips twitch as she steps after him and Steve can't stop the grin that cracks across his face, full and wide.

 

"If you can't trust Ol' Cap who can you trust?"

 

Darcy laughs and shoves his arm, “You are so full of it.”

 

“I certainly didn’t hear anything about butterflies,” he says low, mouth ticking up in an irrepressible smirk.

 

"Jerk," Darcy says, pink creeping across her cheeks, eyes lit up as she meets his gaze.

 

The tip of her tongue flicks over her full pink lips and Steve's gaze drops. He ducks his head and kisses her, a firm press of his mouth on the sweet curve of her lips. He swipes his tongue over her bottom lip and and Darcy sighs against his mouth. Steve lets the kiss linger a few moments more before he pulls back. It would be far too easy to let things get carried away, and he knows, better than anyone, that there is always someone watching.

He hopes his ears aren’t as red as they feel. Steve bounces on his toes a little, feeling far younger than his age in or out of the freezer. Maybe he’d feel a little more guilty about teasing her if he didn’t feel the same way about her.


	7. un-birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's birthday. 
> 
> Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, though short it may be is dedicated to all my lovely friends, and those that I hardly know (at least not yet), who have sent me messages and comments the last few weeks. It means the world to me and all that I have to repay with are a few little fluffy words and a possible a toothache. 
> 
> Thanks go to Aenaria and ladysarah for beta reading.

“You know, my birthday was last week,” Steve says, lifting the bottle of beer to his lips. As parties go its not the worst he’s been too, not even the worst in his name as far as he’s concerned. The ice sculpture is more than a little tacky. His ass isn’t that big. He’s pretty sure it’s not, anyway.

 

“Nobody tell Stark,” Sam grins, plucking a bite size apple pie from Steve’s plate and popping it into his mouth.

 

“Hey, get your own. It’s _my_ birthday.”

 

“Nah, where’s the fun in that, Rogers?”

 

“Speaking of fun,” Natasha says, slipping up to his side on silent heels. Her eyes dance with humour, and the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck raise.

 

“What have you done?”

 

“Me? I’ve done nothing. Well, not today anyway,” Natasha says, helping herself to a star shaped cheese filled canape on his plate. Steve scowls and Natasha smirks, “Stark on the other hand...”

 

Steve jerks his head up, finding Tony bouncing on his toes as he talks with Banner and Col. Rhodes. Tony’s grinning and his eyes flick from Steve to the closed doors of the penthouse elevator. The elevator doors slide open, and Steve feels the same sort of dawning horror grip his as when he watches terrible horror films with Sam. He wishes for just a moment that the elevator is empty. No such luck there as Felonious Gru and an assortment of blue clad minions spill out. Two of the minions are pushing a small silver cart with a luminous red, white, and blue-

 

“Is that jello? I hope that’s jello,” Sam says, elbowing Steve in the ribs.

 

"I don't think jello is supposed to glow."

 

“Palaloo lali, Cap,” the minions shout, peeling off from Gru to swarm across the room. Steve winces, hands his bottle and plate to Natasha, and braces himself. Within moments he’s surrounded by smiling yellow faces, with grasping hands.

 

“Watch the hands,” he mutters, ignoring the laughter swirling around him. Steve looks up from the minions surrounding him as Darcy steps out of the elevator, smoothing her hands down the sides of her lace dress.

 

…

 

It’s _awkward._

 

Awkward and uncomfortable in a way that he hasn’t felt since the first time he put on tights, a mask with little wings attached, and held a tin shield with his lines taped to the back. The only thing that makes him feel even remotely better is the way Stark’s glee is dampened as the minions disperse around the penthouse, three fingered gloved hands into anything and everything. Tony Stark isn’t happy and Steve can’t quite hide the smirk that curls up with left side of his mouth. Or the way that his heart feels close to bursting when Darcy curls her hand in his, rocks up on her toes and whispers ‘happy birthday’ against his lips.

 

“Thanks,” he says, chasing after her mouth with his. The kiss is quick, but enough for the taste of Darcy’s lipstick to bloom across his tongue, waxy and tart. The metal of Darcy’s ring is smooth against his fingers and Darcy’s smile is blinding. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

 

“Pretty sure that is the point of a surprise party,” Darcy says, head tilting back, eyebrows raised, lips pursed in a smirk. Steve wants to kiss her all over again.

 

“Maybe.”

 

Sam clears his throat. Loudly.

 

_Oh, right._

 

“Everyone, this is Darcy, my...girlfriend,” he says in a rush that is far from as calm and collected as he would like to be. Darcy’s breath hitches and her fingers tighten around his. Her eyes sparkle when he meets them and for a moment the everything fades away to the dull throb of the music, and the warmth in his chest.  

 

“Okay, this is awkward,” Gru says, clapping his hands together. “I don’t see why we needed to be here amongst these...heroes. They’ll revoke my license.”

 

“We were invited, dad,” Darcy huffs, rolling her eyes.

 

“And her father Felonious Gru,” Steve finishes, contemplating how much trouble it would be to have Gru’s sofa brought to swallow him up, leaving change and buttons to be found amongst the cushions.

 

“So, how’s the life of a supervillain-ry treating you?” Tony asks.

 

“Oh, same old same old,” Gru offers, with a shrug. Darcy pulls her hand from Steve’s to grip her purse tight in both hands. “And you, Stark?”

 

“Not a supervillain,” Tony says, pointing to himself.

 

“I went to university. I know how the world works,” Gru says, eyes narrowing. “We should go, daughter, I promised your sisters we would not be late.”

 

_Better watch those stones you’re throwing, Stark._

 

The tension twists Steve’s gut. Before he can find some pretty words, or form an adequate escape plan, a crash followed by a high pitched ringing echos through the room.

 

“The minions,” Natasha mutters.

 

“The cake,” Sam says, sounding almost heartbroken.

 

The cake had been a masterpiece of sugarcraft. Five tiers of blue icing, decorated in silver stars, and ribbons of red, topped in a sugar crystal replica of his shield, on a mechanical base that spun and lit up the shield from below.  The cake was now spilled on the floor, chunks of white, red and blue velvet cake and buttercream, shards of sugar glittering amongst the carnage.

 

“Bi-do,” grin three icing drenched minions.

 

“Oh my god,” Darcy snorts, covering her mouth with her hand.

 

“Well, I suppose we could stay a little longer,” Gru says.

 

…

 

“Come on,” Steve says, tugging on Darcy’s hand.

 

"Where are we going?"

 

"Anywhere but here," he says, slipping through the edge of the room.

 

Isn't this your party? With your friends?"

 

"It's a party, I don't think it matters that I'm here or not."

 

"There's a bigger than life ice sculpture of you all spangled up."

 

"So?"

 

"I've been here for like 45 minutes and at least seven different cover versions of _'The Star Spangled Man With a Plan’_  have played. The burger buns are replicas of your shield, perfectly patriotic cocktails,and cupcakes with teeny tiny wings on them."

 

"I’ll ask Natasha to save you some cupcakes,” he says, lips quirking up as he pushes Darcy through a door ahead of him. The sound from the party is muted by the door and Steve lets out a slow breath. “I really hate that song."

 

"There are worse songs about you and actually this Johnny Cash version is totally my favourite."

 

"Not Nirvana's cover?" Steve asks, amused, and maybe a little bit pleased with himself that he knows the difference.

 

"Nope."

 

“Britney’s? Madonna’s?”

 

“You dork.” Darcy grins up at him and Steve crowds her against the door and covers her mouth with his. Maybe it’s not so bad an un-birthday after all.

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover Art for The Minion Verse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1622399) by [McGregorsWench](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McGregorsWench/pseuds/McGregorsWench)
  * [The Minion Verse [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2117463) by [blackglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackglass/pseuds/blackglass)




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